Here We Go Again
by jaroberts
Summary: Dean, once again affected by the Mark of Cain, refuses to let himself become a demon again, so naturally made Castiel promise to kill him should he get out of control again. While Sam is out on a case, Castiel vows to watch over the cursed hunter, and a few truths are shed. Coda to 10x9, non-canon after.


Here We Go Again

The bunker was quiet, a gentle humming in the main area. Castiel stood there, cataloguing the different tomes and artifacts the Men of Letters had collected over time. It never ceased to amaze him. Symbols were just that, symbols. But in the hands of the right person, the intent behind any symbol could become something else.

Claire was asleep in one of the spare rooms. After they left the slaughter at the house of the man that convinced her to steel for him, Castiel had to put Dean to sleep for he was too rabid, the murderous bloodlust in his eyes just shy of how he was before. Castiel wasn't surprised that Claire was reticent to come with them, she had seen it all with her own eyes what Dean had done.

As much as Castiel wanted to fulfill Dean's wishes, to put Dean out of his misery, when he had made Castiel promise him that he would kill him if he ever went dark-side again, he couldn't. Metatron had said it, and it was true. He knew that now. For all his persistent drive to reunite Heaven, it was all just an empty mission, it felt like it was something he was supposed to do, because he thought _Dean_ would want him to. But that was just Castiel's self-involved side coming into play.

Dean didn't really care about much of anything as of late, at least not since he received that cursed tribal mark on his arm.

Castiel knew now that there was something different about him as compared to all the other angels. Naomi had even said it when she had captured him before Metatron had killed her. He had never done what he was told, when all an angel was meant to be was a model of obedience. He was different. He cared about Humanity sure, but Metatron was right when he had said it.

He did it, all of it, for Dean.

Every second, every indiscriminate amount of time fighting by Dean's side, helping him and Sam through each battle they had been through had all been for Dean. What was Humanity to him? Just a meaningless symbol of faceless people and families who he didn't know, didn't get to see them every day.

Metatron was right. Castiel had hidden behind the flag he was waving for Heaven, when all of it didn't mean a thing to him. All he cared about was saving one human, the Righteous Man. Metatron said that he was in love… with Humanity… but he was wrong.

So yeah, Castiel finally understood why he was so attached, so loyal to Dean. Six years of fighting together, leaning on each other when they were at their worst.

It was wonderful to finally know why the eldest Winchester had such a pull on his grace. And it was scary sometimes too, to know that Dean owned him, in the deepest sense of the word. All Dean had to do was tell him how and where and Castiel would not even hesitate to give his life for him.

Again.

Castiel frowned to himself as he slowly and quietly made his way through the cement hallways of the bunker. He didn't know what prompted him to move, but his feet carried him thoughtlessly to Dean's bedroom.

A slow smile grew on the angel's face as he watched Dean sleep from the doorway. Dean looked so peaceful in his sleep, all the stress and worry lines absent. Castiel only wished he knew how he could help Dean be more content when he was awake. Lying on his stomach, the haphazard way that his limbs were arranged, feet hanging off the side of the bed and arms stretched out across the memory foam, hair messy and sticking out, his mouth slightly open as soft snores issued from the sleeping man. Castiel didn't understand why Dean deemed this creepy, watching him sleep. It was honesty, the one time that Dean's guard was down, when he was at peace.

It was beautiful.

Dean was beautiful. If Castiel was the blasphemous type, he would say God had Dean in mind when he created Humanity. Not only was he aesthetically pleasing, but his soul, although scarred and mutilated from his forty years in Hell, his wildness of spirit from the non-stop running in the year he was in Purgatory, and the most recent affliction, the Mark that was slowly dragging him back to the darkness, his soul was the most beautiful part of him.

Castiel came to sit on the side of the bed, his left thigh pressed snug against Dean's right flank. He never thought he would ever get this opportunity again.

When Metatron told him that Dean was dead, every part of Castiel had wanted to die. This man, so selfless and loyal, this man that gave no thought of himself, for he was afraid of his feelings, was gone. And Castiel had felt like something in him had been ripped out, as if the stolen grace had burnt out of him and he was somehow alright, like the foreign grace was punishing him by making him live through the most agonizing hurt and torture imaginable.

Castiel's fingers gingerly moved up to card through Dean's hair, his chest expanding so much he though his heart would burst out from behind his ribs for the love had had for his human.

When he spoke, Castiel didn't even try to whisper. No one was around to hear but Dean, and even if he was asleep, Castiel was sure Dean, on some deeper subconscious level, knew what he was about to say.

"I thought I was gonna fall when you died," he confessed, his gravelly tones making the air around him feel charged and tense. Cas' hand rested gently on the nape of Dean's neck, the skin on the pads of his fingers soothed by the simple action of touch.

"I… couldn't handle it," Cas whispered and then frowned. Dean shifted in his sleep so that his back was to Castiel, laying on his right side, right palm up, the cursed Mark on show for Cas to see. It made Castiel want to smite something, to lay all the demons to waste. This man's soul, so beautiful and bright, did not deserve such a burden.

Castiel knew Dean. He knew what he did in Hell, he knew why he fought. Because there was nothing else _for_ him. From the moment that fire started in Sam's nursery, Dean had been doomed to a life of misery and loneliness. Cas' heart _ached_ for him, it nearly brought tears to the angel's eyes. He wanted to make it better.

"I know you made me promise you that I would kill you if you ever lost control and went dark-side again… but I can't do it Dean. Same as I couldn't kill you when Hannah asked me to," a pause, deep breath before the plunge, " Dean… I need you," he admitted, feeling like his heart was breaking even as his voice became throaty and out of breath with worry and sadness for the man. "You're the only family I have left… I mean, the angels are my family… but it's not the same… we don't _feel_ for each other the way you feel for your family… the way I feel for you."

With that, Castiel waited a baited breath, hoping against hope that Dean would wake up and help the angel quell the sharp ache in his heart, the amount of love he had for his human physically painful. That was something cheesy romance novels never told you. How love hurt even while it brought joy and pleasure to those involved.

"I promise you Dean… we will find a way to rid you of the Mark. I don't know how we will, but we will. Even if I have to rip out my grace and burn the evil of Lucifer out of you myself. I will always come when you call," Cas grounded out, his hand subconsciously finding its way to the waiting hand of the sleeping man.

A smile grew on the angel's face as he felt their fingers intertwine. Dean was still asleep, but he needed this, and who was Castiel to deny any form of comfort to his human.

The angel squeezed his hand as Dean mumbled in his sleep, had he not been a celestial being he wouldn't have heard it.

"Cas… save me… please," Dean whispered brokenly.

Castiel's heart constricted, tightening his jaw as he felt his eyes well up with warmth for the Righteous Man.

"Always."


End file.
